


Magical Match

by flslp87



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 06:25:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14326527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flslp87/pseuds/flslp87
Summary: Doctor Emma Swan, a psychology professor at the University of Miami, is looking for her Superman.  Doctor Killian Jones, a sociology professor, on sabbatical from Cambridge University, is looking for his Buttercup.   What happens when well-meaning friends and family gift them memberships to an online dating site?





	Magical Match

This story was written for the Captain Swan Spring Fic Formal csficformal and is my gift to distant-rose .

**Magical Match**

**February 2018**

Emma watched the clock tick down the last few minutes which would signal the end of the first test of the semester for her Psych 101 class. Then eighty students would put down their pens and eighty pairs of eyes would meet hers, some resigned, some elated, most unsure. Once scores had been posted, her office would be inundated with students with questions about their grades, and by the next class her roster would have dropped by several. Such was the life of a professor at a university where admission wasn't easy and where their grades from high school were often among the highest in their class.

"Time," she called. "Please turn your papers over and pass them to your left." Emma moved down the aisle collecting the exams, and as the pile grew heavy, wondered whose idea it was to give an essay exam.  _Yours_ ,  _numbnut_ , she scolded herself. "Your reading for the next class is on your syllabus," she told them in closing. "I'll see you Tuesday."

One or two students waved, a few others smiled and as they filed out she couldn't help but make a few guesses as to which ones would drop. But, she sighed, her job wasn't to worry about each individual student who dropped, it was to make sure that those who stayed got what they paid for...or what their parents paid for, anyway. "Cynical much?" she muttered, cramming the papers into her bag before shutting off the lights and hurrying out the door.

Emma took the stairs to her office on the fourth floor and with an hour left before she needed to leave to meet Mary Margaret, sat down to grade the exams. She made it through three of them before her attention wandered to her laptop and the possibility that a new message might have arrived from Clark, as she hadn't heard from him in a few days. Had he returned from his business trip? Or maybe she should be asking herself was when had she started to care?

**December 2017**

_Since moving to Miami, Emma, as well as many of her colleagues, spent the holidays at the home of their boss, David Nolan. As the Dean of the College of Arts and Sciences, he worked hard to make sure that no one was alone over the holidays, and as Emma was best friends with his wife, Mary Margaret, she found she didn't mind. However, as the years went on and the number of single faculty decreased, it seemed that everyone had someone they wanted her to meet. The problem was, how could they know exactly what Emma needed when Emma didn't even know?_

_Mary Margaret said she needed her very own Prince Charming, which was how she described David. Emma wasn't so sure. She liked David...a lot...and he was a great boss, but to be married to someone like that, she just wasn't sure._

_Belle told her she needed a bad boy, like the man she had married. But, once again, while she could definitely say there were some aspects of the bad boy that had attracted her in the past...she didn't think she could marry him._

_Her past romances had taught her what she didn't want, but what did appeal to her? Someone who challenged her…yet cared about her opinion. Someone who was caring, witty and not afraid to say he was sorry. Someone who would sweep her off her feet when she needed him yet allowed her to walk alone. A man who, like a pirate in the night, would sneak up and steal her heart so effortlessly that she would never want to let him go. Who was he? Where was he? Was he someone she had yet to meet?_

_The group this year had been smaller and while it had been an enjoyable day, Emma was ready to go home and curl up with her six-month old kitten, Ginger. She said her goodbyes and was just opening her car door when Mary Margaret came running down the walk. "Emma, hold on," she huffed, "you forgot your gift."_

_Emma took the green envelope and frowned a little. "You gave me my gift the other day. What's this?"_

_"Well," Mary Margaret began, but her body language and the way she seemed to struggle for the right words served to put Emma on guard. "David and I just want you to be as happy as we are so we kind of..."_

_Her hesitation had the hairs on the back of Emma's neck standing straight up and convinced her that she was most likely not going to like it. "What did you do?" she asked hesitantly._

_Mary Margaret took a deep breath. "Just read the letter and remember...we love you." Then she quickly hugged her and with a little wave disappeared back inside._

_With a shake of her head, Emma tossed the envelope onto the passenger seat and drove home. Once inside, her curiosity got the better of her and she ripped the envelope open and pulled out several sheets of paper. The letter was from a dating site she had heard about from some of her friends called Magical Matches, whose slogan was "Your True Love is only a keystroke away." With a roll of her eyes at the matchmaking persistence of her friends, she tossed the letter on her desk deciding she would deal with it later._

_For a week Emma moved the letter from one place on her desk to another, but never had the desire to read what it had to say. And since Mary Margaret and David had left on a cruise, she didn't have to explain herself either. Which left the door open for her to turn down several invitations for New Year's Eve and welcome in 2018 her way...movies, champagne and her favorite dessert._

_The day had been perfect. She lounged in bed until Ginger insisted it was time to eat, and then after a run to her favorite bakery she had settled in with a cup of hot chocolate and an excessively large bearclaw. She made it through The Sound of Music before taking a small break to entertain Ginger and then dove back into The Promise._

_A grilled cheese and a bottle of water carried her through An Officer and a Gentleman and The Lake House. And then she pulled out dessert and cut a piece of her hazelnut cheesecake with chocolate drizzle that she had picked up earlier and popped the cork on the champagne. With those in hand, Emma sank down onto the sofa and sang along with the songs that were in the movie Pretty Woman._

_Half way through the bottle of champagne, she decided to watch Ghost, and as the last drop of bubbly was poured into her glass, her tears started to fall. Why was she alone on New Year's Eve? If there was a man just for her, where was he?_

_As one year gave way to the next, Emma pressed play on the movie that seemed to have the man of her dreams. He was a dichotomy in that one side was shy, awkward and unsure while his alter ego was cocky, confident and caring. And while he had been portrayed many times by many actors, none quite pulled off both side as well as Christopher Reeve._

_As she watched Clark Kent's shy puppy behavior around Lois Lane, Emma found herself with such a goofy smile on her face that she had to look away. Unfamiliar feelings were coming to the surface, but before she gave them too much thought, her attention was diverted when Ginger jumped up on her desk and started batting everything onto the floor. "Feeling left out?" she crooned, picking up the kitten and cleaning up the mess she'd made, which included a pile of papers._

_Stacking the papers neatly proved to be more difficult than it should have been, as little paws were busy swatting at everything that moved. Emma tossed one of Ginger's toys, thinking she would run after it and had just straightened the pile when, with one jump, the kitten landed in the middle and everything scattered everywhere again. "Ginger!"_

_"Mew," Ginger responded, looking up at her with such an innocent expression that Emma couldn't help but pick her up and hug her._

_"What am I going to do with you?" Emma murmured softly, her eyes landing on the letter from Magical Matches. Unsure what caused her to open it, Emma picked up the letter and sank down onto her desk chair to read._

_**Dear LostGirl,** _

_**Your Magical Match is CapnJolly. Whether you contact him or not is up to you, but if you choose to do so, please follow the instructions on the included page.** _

_**Best of Luck,** _

_**Ruby Lucas  
** _ _**President  
** _ __**Magical Matches**

_Emma stared at the words on the page for so long that Ginger batted at her arm for attention. Should she or should she not?_

_Her gaze was drawn back to the television screen that was showing Superman turning back time to save Lois Lane, and she made her decision. She wanted to find that someone who would jump with her. Before she could change her mind, Emma read the directions for signing into the server and composed her email:_

_**Dear CapnJolly,** _

_**My friends gave me this as a Christmas gift and while I am skeptical about it really working, I decided why not.** _

_**I'm looking for someone, not to follow, but to walk by my side. Someone who can see through walls that aren't impenetrable and leap the ones that are. Someone whose weakness is really his strength and who loves me for what I am and not for what he wants me to be.** _

_**I've not found him yet and really don't have high hopes that I ever will, but I promised my friends I would give it a try and that...that is important.** _

_**Your Magical Match,** _

_**LostGirl** _

_A quick proof was all she allowed herself before she hit send because she knew that if she thought too long about it, she would end up deleting it. This way, it was done._

**Early February 2018**

He had written back the next day and somehow through the various computer conversations, she had grown to look forward to hearing from him. They had discussed everything from their favorite books to their favorite movies and had even spent several exchanges talking about pasta. He knew she wasn't a morning person, ate Pop-Tarts for breakfast and enjoyed walks on the beach.

But...he didn't know who her best friend was, that she was a professor at a university in Miami or her real name. There were some parts of herself she needed to keep close...for privacy, she tried to tell herself, but really for protection, for as long as the wall was up...she was safe. Or was she?

Her phone was in her hand before she realized it, her thumb hovered over the app to open it, but since there was no notification, Emma set the phone aside and finished grading the test she had started before getting lost in memories. Once she was done, she dropped her pen, locked her office, and had taken less than ten steps when she heard her name being called from behind and, knowing who it was, fought to keep from ducking into the women's room just ahead. But since it was her boss...and her best friend's husband, she plastered a smile on her face and slowly turned around. "David, what committee are you trying to fill now?" she asked him with resignation.

"No committees, Emma," David smiled, "I just want you to meet the man who will be taking over Belle's classes while she's out with the new baby."

"Oh?" Emma's brow went up as she sized up the man standing next to David. "I thought you were going to spread her classes around."

"Well," David put his hand on the man's shoulder, "I didn't know that the brother of one of my dearest friends would be available so...let me introduce Killian Jones."

"Emma Swan." She shook his hand while trying to remember where she had seen him, and while making small talk, surreptitiously studied him. Not quite as tall as David, dark hair he wore longish, but gelled back except for a few strands that fell over a high forehead, square jaw that was clean shaven, smallish ears tight to his head and blue eyes rimmed by dark lashes that were covered with a pair of oversize dark glasses.

He wore dark pants, white shirt with a muted tie, covered by a tweed jacket, and in his hand he was holding a fedora...just like Clark Kent come to life. "No, Killian...Killian Jones," he repeated, and she realized she must have voiced her thoughts aloud.

"I'm sorry," Emma hastened to add, "I've got to run. I have a lunch meeting." And before she could embarrass herself or David any further, walked away. Rude, perhaps...but for some reason being in the company of Killian Jones gave her a strange feeling.

She looked back as she started down the stairs and both were still standing there with their mouths hanging open. She shrugged, "It's your wife, David. You know how grumpy she gets if someone is late."

As she walked across campus to the Shalala Student Center, Emma thought about how David had smiled and waved her off as he was used to her behavior, but Killian Jones had looked almost relieved. "That's odd," she muttered, spotting Mary Margaret across the room seated next to a window.

"What's wrong?" her friend asked before Emma was even situated in the chair.

Emma frowned. "David just introduced me to the person taking Belle's classes and I know him...but from where, I'm not sure...yet." Then it hit her and after an excited inhalation, she continued, "Remember that conference I went to last fall and I-"

"Complained about one of the speakers for weeks?" Mary Margaret finished her sentence.

"Yes," Emma shook her head, "it's him. His ideas were really..."  _Simplistic, archaic...annoying,_ she thought. "But I don't want to talk about him. Let me fill you in on Clark."

**~~~CS~~~**

When Emma left, Killian slowly let go of the breath he was holding, as he hadn't been interested in a confrontation with a colleague so soon after joining the team.

"Sorry about that," David interrupted his thoughts to make excuses for the Swan girl. "Emma can be prickly, but she's a fine instructor and has co-published with another professor in the area of psychophysiology."

Killian didn't say anything, just nodded his head in a 'that's alright' motion, as he much preferred observing to confrontation anyway. Besides, it seemed that Emma apparently had a very comfortable working relationship with his soon to be boss and he didn't want to get off on the wrong foot. And that was on a professional front...on the personal front, he would hate to create any issues, as Liam would kill him.

He followed David as he was shown around the college, but once they left the Flipse Building behind and started walking across the campus, Killian could finally relax. The warm temperatures and soft breeze were a welcome change from the snowy cold of Wisconsin and the damp cold of London. So much so, in fact, that he found himself second guessing his wool tweed jacket and fedora.

"Here we are," David indicated the modern building in front of him, "our 46-million-dollar student center."

"That's a lot of money." Killian looked on in amazement at the chrome and glass structure surrounded by lush, tropical landscape.

"Donors with deep pockets," David intoned, leading him around the building. "These gliders okay?" he asked, pointing to a patio dotted with wooden seating areas.

Killian looked out over the sparkling lake surrounded by green grass and nodded, "It's fine, mate."

David led them to a wooden table, flanked by benches and covered with a wooden umbrella, and slid onto one side. Killian followed suit, sliding onto the one across and when it surprised him by moving, he unceremoniously fell, almost slipping off the seat, knocking his glasses askew.

"You okay?" David asked quietly.

Killian blushed and straightened his glasses while hastily looking around to see if anyone had noticed. "Fine, fine. I just...ugh...slipped." He ran his finger from one side to the other under his collar, thinking that he was feeling a tad warm.

"You're not too hot, are you?" David asked just as the wind whipped around them.

The breeze served to cool him down a little, but even with the pomade in his hair, it was strong enough to blow an unruly lock over his forehead. "I might have to rethink my jackets while I'm down here."

David grinned as their orders were set in front of them. "Ditch the jacket. We're a pretty loose group. One of our faculty comes to work in board shorts and flip flops." He shrugged, "As long as you're decent and do the job."

Killian couldn't quite see coming to work in shorts but thought perhaps a lighter wardrobe might be in order.

With the gentle movement of the seats and the steady hum of the fountain, he found that his attention kept drifting to an email he needed to write. He wanted to share this new opportunity but worried it would be crossing some unspoken line that she had arbitrarily set up between them. "I could get used to this," he found himself uttering.

David laughed. "Well...we do have a faculty member retiring in May, so..." he left it hanging in the air.

Could he live in a place of perpetual sunshine, across the pond from his brother and family and friends? "I'll keep that in mind," he finally managed, but decided it was definitely something to think about.

While they ate, Killian was content to allow David to carry the conversation. He parceled out information on the school, places he thought Killian should visit, restaurants he frequented and tidbits about his wife, Mary Margaret before segueing into escapades he and Liam had been involved in when they had met at University.

Killian had just popped a salty chip into his mouth when he heard, "David, I didn't expect you to be here," and a dark-headed woman leaned over and kissed his dining companion, answering his question about her identity.

His eyes were drawn to those of the woman standing next to the dean's wife and the iciness of her green stare answered his question as to whether or not her antagonism had been his imagination. Her eyes skittered away first, moving to the vicinity of his chest and feeling his face flame, his gaze moved out to the lake.

Killian listened to David speak to his wife, finding that he envied the easiness with which they spoke. When he was introduced, his habits of old kicked in and after a brief hello, he sat back and answered only when spoken to, feeling as if the words were lodged in his head, but unable to be spoken. Only when he was communicating with...

"David, Doctor Jones," Emma interrupted his thought and tipped her head in farewell as she moved to follow her friend.

"Whoa," David's brows rose, "what did you do to upset Emma?"

Killian didn't really feel the need to explain the whole misunderstanding over the paper he presented and just shook his head. "Professional differences, I suppose. You know how psychologists' philosophies often differ from those of sociologists," he finally settled on.

David studied him for an extra second. "That I do. I need to head back now, is there anything else I can help with?"

"Point me toward the Metrorail?"

**~~~CS~~~**

Emma was expecting Mary Margaret to say something about her treatment of Jones, and so when they had walked around the lake and her friend hadn't said anything, she couldn't stand it any longer. "I know I was rude, but he..."

"Gets under your skin. I know." Mary Margaret sent her a quick grin. "But he's cute."

A snort burst forth before Emma could contain it. "Kind of like a puppy dog. Did you see the chip crumbs on his tie?"

"He just needs a good woman to help bring him out of his shell." Her friend laughed.

"Maybe," Emma agreed, "but that's not me. After all, I've got..."

"Clark, I know," Mary Margaret said with a sigh and a roll of her eyes.

Once back in her office Emma continued with her grading, not stopping until she was finished. She had just completed adding all the grades to the computer gradebook when her phone buzzed. A glance at the notification sent a little thrill through her system. "Clark," she giggled excitedly as she swiped the app to read the message.

**~~~CS~~~**

Killian had rented an apartment overlooking Biscayne Bay, steps away from Bayside Marketplace and an easy commute by train to the University. He had chosen the place not only for the scenery, but because it offered a large balcony, which he had been drawn to the minute he had walked in the door. Large glass windows lined the back wall revealing the blue water of the Bay for as far as the eye could see. And as a sailor, even if it was just for recreational purposes, the blue, blue sea calmed him and soothed his soul.

Since he had been in residence, he had discovered a pattern in his behavior when he returned to the apartment. Upon entering, with a flick of his wrist his hat would land on the table, his jacket and tie would be flung over the sofa, and as he unbuttoned a few buttons of his shirt with one hand the other grabbed his laptop as he gravitated to the balcony. Symbiotic...or at least it seemed that way to him, for it needed him to enjoy its beauty as much he needed its ability to soothe him.

"And today's no different." Killian stretched his legs in front of him and watched the water below, noting the coming and going of the tour boats. He had thought about taking one of the cruises but felt more of a need to be the one in control, which was unlike him. Different from any time in his life he could remember, making him question what had caused the change. Or better yet...who?

**January 2018**

_The new year was only a few hours old, and while Killian had enjoyed spending the evening with his niece, Piper, he couldn't help but wonder when he would find his own Buttercup. That wasn't something he often thought about because, generally, he was happy with his life. He taught classes, did research, wrote and spent time with his family. But there had been something different about this year's New Year's Eve. He had watched The Princess Bride with his niece and found himself feeling...lonely...bereft even...as if something...or someone...was missing._

_It wasn't long before he found himself sitting down at the piano, his fingers running over the keys, almost subconsciously picking out the notes to the theme song from the movie he had been watching. But that didn't seem to help the restless feeling he had and eventually pushed up from the piano, eventually settling in a chair losing himself in thought._

_"Killian?" He looked up as Elsa came into the room. "Any trouble tonight?"_

_He sent her a small smile. "Not at all. Why would you say that?"_

_"No reason," she shrugged a shoulder, "you just appeared...I don't know...lonely, I guess."_

_He surprised himself by answering quietly, "I was just wondering about my Buttercup."_

_"Oh?" Liam's voice joined the conversation, "Something to share, Little Brother?"_

_Killian shook his head, almost wishing he hadn't said anything. "Just a comment after watching your daughter's favorite movie, that's all."_

_Killian watched Liam and Elsa exchange a look that said a lot, but what exactly he wasn't privy to, and then Liam disappeared in the direction of his study only to reappear with a red envelope in his hand. "Take a chance, Killian." He handed the envelope over before holding his hand out to Elsa._

_Elsa leaned over, kissing Killian on the cheek and then wrapped her arm around Liam as he came to his feet, "Love is worth it. Night, Killian." They moved down the hall toward their room and Killian was left alone with his thoughts._

_It had taken him a few days before his curiosity led him to open the envelope, and by the time he had, the letter from his magical match had been waiting for over a day._

_**Dear CapnJolly,** _

_**My friends gave me this as a Christmas gift and while I am skeptical about it really working, I decided why not.** _

_**I'm looking for someone, not to follow, but to walk by my side. Someone who can see through walls that aren't impenetrable and leap the ones that are. Someone whose weakness is really his strength and who loves me for what I am and not for what he wants me to be.** _

_**I've not found him yet and really don't have high hopes that I ever will, but I promised my friends I would give it a try and that...that is important.** _

_**Your Magical Match,** _

_**LostGirl** _

_"She's looking for a bloody Superman," Killian mumbled, pushing away from his desk to pace in front of it. "How's a normal bloke expected to live up to that?" He stopped pacing long enough to stare in the mirror at his image. "You're certainly no Superman," he told the man looking back at him. "But, maybe you could be his alter-ego, Clark Kent. With that in mind, he sat back down to try to put together a response that didn't make him sound like an arse._

_**Dear LostGirl,** _

_**I, too, am skeptical of this process working but was reminded recently that skepticism is often the first step to a great discovery. And since one can only truly fail if they don't try, I would like to see if I'm up to the task of breaking down a few of your walls, much like the man of steel.** _

_**I am looking for someone who is loyal and willing to fight for what she wants. Someone who isn't interested in trying to change me, but who accepts me for the man I am. Someone who loves me enough that even after years together, it is always as exciting as the first time. Someone who challenges my mind and allows me to challenge hers.** _

_**Are you willing to roll down the mountain with me?** _

_**Your Magical Match,** _

_**CapnJolly** _

**~~~CS~~~**

**February 2018**

Killian admitted that he had sent that first email mainly out of curiosity, but it hadn't taken many exchanges before one day he had signed his message as Superman's alter-ego, Clark. It hadn't been planned, but had just happened, and she had understood...and with her signature, she became his Buttercup. And now, four weeks after their initial emails...she mattered, and that was cause for concern. The anonymity made it simple, as he didn't have to worry about saying the wrong thing because each and every word he wrote had been thought out. The awkwardness that he felt around women that caused him to inevitably do or say something foolish wasn't a problem because the more he corresponded with his Buttercup, the easier it became. The ease hadn't transferred to other women though, as today with Emma Swan, he had been tongue-tied and felt like a gauche teen. Not a promising start to the next few months.

The revving of a boat motor served to pull his attention back to the task at hand, that of composing a new message for his magical match. He had some things he wanted to share with her, but while he had been open about his likes and dislikes, he was still holding his identity, his family and his location close. Why, he couldn't say, but something told him that his Buttercup wasn't quite ready for taking that next step. He still needed to scale a wall or two.

Opening his computer, he started typing, but for every word that he wrote, he deleted two. It took him the better part of an hour to get the right tone, to get the right words, but once he had written everything out, he hit send. No second thoughts. Once sent, his heart fluttering in his chest and his nerves skittering along his skin, he couldn't stay inside any longer. A quick change into running shorts and Killian headed to the beach to run.

**~~~CS~~~**

The message from Clark wasn't long, but many of their messages weren't. They had fallen into the habit of asking each other a simple question, or of relaying information. It was a way to share pieces of themselves without going too far out on the limb. Or, in her role of Buttercup, a way to take a few steps down the hill, or if necessary a few steps back up the hill. Safe...but still satisfying...and exciting. This time was different though, as he had shared more about his location and even asked for her help.

_**Dear Buttercup,** _

_**I'm sorry I've not been in touch for a few days, but I've recently sailed into a new harbor. For the next few months, I'll be sailing where the sun shines and the water is warm. The only problem is that I find myself at odds with one of my shipmates and I am vexed as to how to repair the rift. Would you have any words of wisdom for this weary sailor?** _

_**Yours,** _

_**Clark** _

She read the message through once...and then read it through once more, but this time very slowly. She kept thinking that taken at face value, his words meant one thing, but that maybe there was a hidden message too. However, after several minutes of coming up with no answer, she decided to answer him once she had returned home. Ginger had been alone too long and if she were bored, who knew what she would get into.

Emma lived in a small neighborhood in the town of Coconut Grove, located not far from the University. It was a small community located within the city of Miami but was easily accessed via the Metrorail and close to the shops at Bayside Marketplace and the night life and beaches of South Beach. Most days she took the train but knowing that she would be staying late grading papers she had driven. Now as she dealt with the rush hour traffic along the US-1, she had second and third thoughts, finally driving into her driveway an hour after leaving her office.

With a slight hesitancy as to the mess she might be walking into, Emma unlocked and slowly pushed open the door. She took a step into the foyer and when the floor was clear let out the breath that she was holding. Shutting the door behind her, she dropped her briefcase onto a side table and turned around to hang up her jacket when, out of the corner of her eye, an orange flash ran around a corner.

"Ginger?" The kitten was gone but trailing across the floor was a strand of cream colored yarn that matched the afghan that Mary Margaret had given her for Christmas. "No, no, no," she repeated rapidly running to the T.V. room to find it spread across the floor. "Ginger," she groaned picking it up, finding where the mischievous kitten had found a loose strand and had taken off. Holding it tightly in one hand to keep the blanket from further unraveling, she followed the trail that led down the hall and around a corner into her bedroom where the kitten had gotten sidetracked by her hair ribbons, now spread around the room.

Emma quickly picked up the ribbons, tossed them on the dresser and went looking for the kitten. She wasn't in the kitchen but she had been, as her box of toys had been upended and its contents were spread across the floor. Ginger wasn't in the study either, however there was evidence of her as she had knocked her pens off the desk, which left the bathrooms. Emma could hear the kitten before ever entering the room and, as expected, found her destroying a roll of toilet paper.

"Ginger!" Emma picked up the kitten and tucked her under one arm and then picked up the mess. "What am I going to do with you?" she asked her friend carrying her into the kitchen and setting her on the floor while she got out the kitten food. Once Ginger had her nose in the kitten food, Emma set her sights on her own meal, finally settling on a slice of cold pizza and dropping down in front of her computer.

Clark's question about advice to help sort out a disagreement between co-workers reminded her of her feelings regarding Killian Jones. Having sat in on a portion of a presentation he had given, she had left early after hearing him say that growing up in the foster system was what caused social deviance. What would she need to change her mind? Was there anything?  _Maybe there was_ , she thought as she sat down to type out her message.

**~~~CS~~~**

Killian spent the next several days thinking about what Buttercup had suggested while he went about his professorial duties. Preparing lectures and Power Point presentations to match the students' needs ended up taking extra time, but once that was complete, he went back and reread the last message.

_**Dear Clark,** _

_**Rifts are often caused by a misunderstanding. Perhaps if you can figure out where the misunderstanding occurred, you can clear that up.** _

_**Good luck,** _

_**Your Buttercup** _

He knew exactly what had caused the rift between him and Emma Swan as it had to do with a paper he had presented on social deviance. All he had to do was figure out why she'd had such a visceral response to his presentation...and correct it. Simple, right?

"Killian?" He turned to greet David, who happened to be standing next to a man wearing board shorts and flip flops.

"David, how are things?"

Pleasantries exchanged, David introduced his companion, "I'd like you to meet August Booth. August, Killian is covering for Belle."

After a few conversational exchanges, David excused himself and Killian and August began walking back to their offices. Along the way, August shared a few more pieces of information about his specialty as well as filling him in on a few idiosyncrasies of the other faculty members. "Had any run-ins with anyone yet?"

"Not really, no." Killian tugged on his right ear, and straightened his glasses, habits he was aware of resorting to when he felt uncomfortable.

"That look is telling me there's more in what you're not saying. Come on, spill," August encouraged.

Killian didn't respond right away but waited until they were in his office. He leaned back against his desk and looked at the man standing in front of him, deciding perhaps he could fit another piece to the puzzle. "Nothing, really...just...Emma Swan took offense with a paper I presented last fall, but I'm unsure as to why." He picked up a copy of the paper, handing it to August.

" _Creating Social Deviants in the Foster System; A Case Study,"_ August read aloud. "This was the paper?"

"Aye," Killian answered. "What about it?"

"It's not really my story to tell," August prefaced before continuing, "but Emma was raised in the foster system and so this-"

"-is a touchy subject." Killian finished his sentence. "I get it now. Thanks, mate."

"Anytime." August handed back the paper. "I've got to run, but if you ever want to go wakeboarding or windsurfing, let me know."

Once he was gone, Killian dropped down onto his desk chair and tried to figure out his next step. He had inadvertently upset a colleague by making her think that he was maligning an entire subset of individuals who were near and dear to her heart. He wanted to make it right, for her vexation with him left him feeling unsettled, for more than what could be taken at face value. He wanted Dr. Swan to read his entire paper. Perhaps then the confusion could be cleared up, their working relationship would be amicable, and the unsettled feeling he had would disappear. Question was, how to get it to her. Mailbox...leave it on her desk...slide it under her door? All possibilities, except the likelihood of her tossing it in the garbage without reading were 70/30. What then could he do?

He was on his way to place it in her mailbox when he was presented with an unexpected opportunity. Killian reached to open the door to the department office and without looking barreled inside running headfirst into Emma Swan, who was carrying a box full of papers. "What the hell!" he heard as the box was dropped, landing on the toe of his wingtips.

"Ouch!" Killian yelped, also dropping the article and exam he'd been carrying before realizing that Emma was just staring at the papers that were slowly sliding out of the box at his feet. Old habits kicked in. "Uh, sorry Doctor Swan." He bent over and began haphazardly shoving the papers back inside the box. "I didn't look where I was going. I was," he looked around locating his exam and held it aloft, "going to make copies of this test and I..." The last piece was shoved inside and, standing, he pushed the box toward Emma, unaware that he had taken a step forward.

"Uh," Emma let out a gasp as the box hit her in the chest and only the fact that Killian was still holding on to it kept it from once again landing on the floor.

"Sorry about that." He gave her a sheepish grin, relaxing his stance a bit, thinking she looked a bit shell-shocked for lack of a better word. "Are you alright?"

She shook her head as if trying to clear her thoughts and took the box out of his hands. "I'm fine," she answered his question solicitously, before her voice took on its usual clipped tone. "Thank you." She brushed past him, leaving him standing there alone.

Killian righted his glasses and tried to remember why he was standing in the doorway to the department office. As if in a trance he looked down at the papers he was holding and snapped his fingers, "Ahh, yes. Copies." He left his order for his exam to be copied but it wasn't until he was back in his office that he remembered the article and wondered where it had ended up.

**~~~CS~~~**

Her lecture over, Emma handed a pile of the Developmental Psychology article to each of the rows and once everyone had a copy, moved back to the podium. "Read these over for next class, please, and we'll discuss them then," she instructed before turning her attention to shutting down her Power Point.

"Doctor Swan," Emma's attention was pulled to one of her students, Henry Mills, a gangly, dark-headed boy, who laid a small stack of papers on the podium. "I think I accidentally picked up a copy of the wrong article."

Emma handed him the correct one before looking down at the one he had originally been given and, seeing the title, felt her brows raise in question.  _How had a copy of the Jones' article ended up with hers?_

But then the scene from earlier in the day replayed in her mind of when he had run into her, knocking the box from her hands. She had stood there like an idiot while he had shoved all the papers back into the box, handing them to her. Just as awkward as always she wanted to say but then...he had asked if she was alright and there was something in his voice that was different. The way his British accent curled around the syllables and the huskiness of his tone sent...dare she say...a shiver up her spine? She had to have been mistaken, she ultimately decided, before shutting off her computer and packing up.

Once back in her office, Emma set the article in front of her, trying to decide what she should do. Throw it in the trash and pretend like she never saw it, put it in his faculty mailbox, or take it to his office and give it to him? With a shake of her head, she suddenly remembered how angry she had been when she had heard the beginning of his presentation last fall, and without thinking, she picked it up to toss in the garbage. But before she could let it go, her curiosity got the better of her and, pulling it close, she read.

Thirty minutes later, she finished the article and buried her head in her hands and mumbled, "Damn! How could I have been so wrong?"

Before she could change her mind, Emma grabbed her jacket, her phone and the article and left the building, making her way across campus to the chemistry building. "Mary Margaret!" She burst into her friend's office without knocking, "You'll never believe what I..." She stopped when she noticed that Mary Margaret wasn't alone, for sitting in front of her desk was the very man she had come to talk about. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know you had company. I'll come back."

"No, don't go," Jones stopped her from leaving, "I need to leave anyway."

Without any further fanfare, he covered his dark hair with his fedora, and with a tip of his chin, left the room. Unsure what to say, Emma sank down onto the seat he had recently vacated noting it was still warm and a musky scent still lingered in the air. "Why was he here?" she asked without preamble.

Mary Margaret snickered, "Hello to you, too."

"Sorry," Emma apologized. "How are you? And why was he here?"

Her friend waved her hand toward her desk where a pile of keys lay. "Would you believe my car keys?"

Emma raised a brow, "Really?"

"Really. Now tell me what has you so rattled."

Unsure where to start, Emma started with the early morning collision and ended with her discovery of how she had been wrong, jumping to some conclusions that she shouldn't have. "He wasn't generalizing for all children raised in the system," Emma shared excitedly, "I think he was saying that the attachment theory would suggest that with this particular case, the person had an inability to regulate in infancy due to abandonment and a broken parental bond, leading to social deviance as a child which carried through to adulthood." She grimaced, "I can appreciate this and probably," she sighed, "shouldn't have been so angry."

When Mary Margaret didn't say anything, Emma leaned on the desk. "What do I do?"

"Apologize," her friend said softly.

Emma took a deep breath, "I was afraid you were going to say that."

On the way back to the Flipse Building Emma kept thinking about the best way to apologize but nothing felt right. She wondered if Clark had been able to sort things out between himself and his co-worker and if so, perhaps he would have some words of wisdom.

**~~~CS~~~**

Since leaving Mary Margaret's office, Killian had been trying to figure out what it was that had brought Emma Swan rushing into the office unannounced. Had she found his article? Had she read the article? And if she had, what did she think?

But why did he care? He was only going to be in town for a couple of months, unless he interviewed for and was offered the permanent position. So why did it matter what she thought of him professionally? Still unsure of the answer, Killian exchanged his tweed and wingtips for running shorts and shoes and hit the beach. After five miles he still couldn't come up with an answer and pushed for another couple before cooling down and making his way back to the apartment.

He stripped and stepped under the shower spray, thinking over the answer that he had settled on while running and that was that Emma Swan was an enigma. He heard stories of what a good instructor she was, how the students and faculty all enjoyed working with her, and yet the Emma Swan he saw was prickly...distant. She challenged him intellectually, whereas Buttercup stimulated him with her curiosity, her wit and her insight. If he could somehow combine the two, he would have found his perfect woman.

Stepping from the shower, Killian dried and wrapped a towel around his waist just as a notification from Buttercup appeared. He quickly slipped into sleep pants and opened the message. It read:

_**Dear Clark,** _

_**Were you able to mend the rift between yourself and your co-worker? I find that now I am in need of some advice from you. I have recently realized that I jumped to an inaccurate assumption and have treated someone poorly because of it. I am unsure how to repair the divide between us. Any ideas?** _

_**Buttercup** _

Killian couldn't help but smile when he read her message because whether she had meant to or not, she had created a tiny crack in her wall. Without much thought behind his answer, he sent a response.

_**Buttercup,** _

_**If you are wrong, apologize.** _

_**Clark** _

He was surprised when he didn't have to wait long before she answered back.

_**Clark,** _

_**I was afraid you would say that. Saying I'm sorry is difficult. No magic pill?** _

_**Buttercup** _

He chuckled at her response and answered.

_**Dear Buttercup,** _

_**No magic pill. Sorry.** _

_**Clark** _

But she didn't let him have the last word.

_**Clark,** _

_**No key to his stomach? No special Hallmark card or movie?** _

_**Buttercup** _

He got it, he really did, for saying you are wrong was difficult, but he had faith in her. Which was interesting since they had never met. Wanting to learn more about her, he just started sending silly questions, as did she, until a glance at the clock told him they had been 'talking' for four hours. His eyes barely able to stay open, Killian sent her one last question and when she didn't answer immediately, he allowed his eyes to close and drifted off to sleep.

**~~~CS~~~**

It had been over a week since Emma fell asleep while 'talking' to Clark, which meant it had been a week since she realized she was wrong about Killian and needed to apologize. However, saying she was sorry was not one of her strong suits and while she had tried...kind of...she was still working up to it.

She decided that starting with a peace offering and then apologizing might make things a little easier and after some subtle questioning had stopped by Starbucks to procure his favorite coffee. However, once she arrived at the University and located him, she had been upstaged by none other than Tina Bell, the college's barracuda. Tina had a reputation for flitting through men as quickly as a fairy flits through a flower field and by all appearances she had set her sights on Professor Jones.

After taking a few days to regroup and come up with another idea, Emma planned to steal a piece of his mail from the faculty mailboxes and drop it by his office claiming it had accidentally gotten mixed up with hers. Frustratingly, it seemed that someone else had the same idea because every time she checked the boxes, his was always empty. It wasn't until she happened to walk by his office one afternoon to overhear someone say, "Killian, here's your mail. It must have been left in my box by mistake," that she realized the culprit was Neal. She didn't think Killian played for the same team as Neal, but she guessed she could be wrong.

As February morphed into March and Emma still hadn't said she was sorry, she started thinking that if she didn't kick her own ass, her friends might very well do it for her. Mary Margaret sent reminder texts, Clark had started asking in his messages and even her kitten had gotten in on the action. Ginger had discovered the copy of the article that Killian wrote and scattered it all over the house, almost as if leaving reminders for her master.

Making up her mind that this was the day, Emma found out which room he was teaching in and planned to stop by on her way to her own class. Sadly, as had been her luck, once he was finished teaching, the podium was swarmed by a gaggle of girls and Emma was left out, yet again.

Tired of being one step behind, she finished teaching her class, packed up for the day and barely made it to the Metrorail for her trip home. But once she arrived home, she had too much nervous energy to sit still, finally changing into running gear and hitting the streets. Allowing her feet to lead the way, she quickly realized that they were leading her directly to the beach and its hard-packed sand.

Emma wasn't sure how far she ran, nor was she sure how long she ran, but she found a set of footprints in the sand and followed them blindly. In her head she created an image of the person she was following, thinking they too might be trying to outrun something...or someone. Her butterflies inside settling down, she slowed to a walk, allowing the gentle breezes to dry the sweat and calm her senses. The mysterious steps faded as they rounded an outcrop of rocks and as she scooted around, the owner of the prints came into view.

He had one leg resting on the shelf of a rock, his torso bent forward as he stretched his hamstrings. She couldn't see his face, but he had a five-o'clock shadow, and his dark head was moving to music only he could hear. She had just decided to turn the other way when he dropped his leg and looked her direction. Emma's eyes traveled from his feet covered in a bright pair of Nike's, up bare legs, baggy shorts, a bare, slightly furred chest into the blue eyes of the man she had been simultaneously looking for yet running from for the past month.

"Killian!" His first name burst forth before she could stop it. "Doctor Jones," she quickly amended, trying to keep her eyes glued to his instead of oogling his barely clad body.

Killian took a step closer, his eyes widening with surprise as he removed an earbud. "Em...uh...Doctor Swan," he hesitated before dropping his gaze to the sand.

Realizing that he might be feeling self-conscious, Emma cleared her throat, "Emma, please," she managed softly.

He lifted his eyes and gave her a shy, but very endearing smile, and repeated, "Emma," quietly, almost as if he were trying it to see how it felt on his tongue. "And you can call me Killian." His response was just as soft as hers had been.

Emma closed her eyes, but the vision of his chest, jaw covered with burnished whiskers and blue, blue eyes without glasses were burned in her brain, refusing to leave. Do it, she told herself, opening her eyes once again to find his gaze locked on her. "I'm glad I ran into you." His arched brow asked a question without his lips ever uttering a sound. "No, really," she rolled her eyes, "I wanted to tell you I was sorry. I've behaved like an ass."

He didn't say anything for the longest time, and afraid that perhaps she had waited too long, Emma almost turned to leave, but something kept her feet planted. "Apology accepted. Care to walk?"

They walked around the rocks, heading back up the beach and while not the comfort of an old friend like she felt when messaging Clark, their talk was, at least friendly. She found that when she asked him questions about his professional life, he appeared more comfortable and seemed to stutter less, which gave her a new appreciation for him. She hadn't really wanted to like him, but darn it, she did, and that was almost disconcerting.

When they eventually parted ways and Emma arrived home, she couldn't get their encounter out of her mind, and for the first time she found herself wishing that Clark was close. But she hadn't even told him where she lived...nor had she shared her real name. The dilemma of what to do carried her into the shower.

**~~~CS~~~**

The week after seeing Emma on the beach was a break for the University, and while he thought about flying home to see Liam, Elsa and Piper, in the end he decided against it. He divided his days between research for the book he was hoping to write and allowing August to teach him how to windsurf. Each evening he ran along the beach and while Emma Swan didn't cross his path, it didn't mean she didn't cross his mind. He found himself thinking of her periodically, especially when he was in the middle of his research. That she might be an interesting co-author had crossed his mind a time or two, so much so that he had almost mentioned it to Buttercup and asked her opinion. But aware that he hadn't shared his real name and profession, kept him quiet...for the time being anyway.

The problem was that the closer he felt to her, the more difficult it became to keep quiet...but something held him back. It was as if he were waiting on some sign and once he had gotten that sign, then...and only then would he divulge information that would lead to her knowing his real name. What that sign was, he couldn't say...but when it happened, he would know.

The last day of the break, a Sunday, David and Mary Margaret were hosting a brunch for the faculty of the College of Arts & Sciences, and if any faculty members were in town, they were expected to be there. Killian arrived late and snuck in, hoping not to call attention to himself as he circled the room keeping his eyes open for...

"Looking for me?" A whispered voice asked in his right ear as he felt an arm circling his waist.

 _Could that be?_ he wondered turning to his right, only to be surprised by Neal's whiskered jaw leaning close to his shoulder. "Bloody hell, Cassidy!" Killian bellowed, jumping back quickly. "What are you doing?"

"Well, I thought," Neal started before being pushed aside by the college snake.

"Get your hands off him!" Tina Bell ordered Neal, shoving him out of the way.

Killian noticed people staring, which was the exact opposite of what he had been looking for. Slowly, he took a step back, trying to keep out of the reach of the groping hands. "Wai...wai…uh…just a minute here. There...there seems to be a...a...a big misunderstanding." His collar suddenly started feeling tighter and he swiped his finger around inside it in a desperate attempt to get it to loosen, all the while looking across the room for someone to rescue him. "Hold on, here," he tried again, taking another step backwards. "There...there seems to be, uh...a misunderstanding." He took one more step and hit a table, causing the plant sitting on it to wobble.

Simultaneously, a hand reached out, stopping it from tumbling to the floor and another hand settled at his waist. He knew before he turned that his savior was Emma Swan, but where had she come from?"

"There you are," she hesitated just long enough to get the attention of both of his suitors, "Killian. I've been looking for you."

Emma positioned herself close against his side, her nearness causing his heart to speed up and sweat beads to appear on his upper lip. Unsure what he was supposed to say, Killian looked down into her green eyes shining with laughter. He swallowed his unease and nodded his head, "Aye, that's uh...that's right."

He swallowed again when Emma linked her arm with his, and with an, "Excuse us," pulled him away from the situation.

Once they were well out of Neal and Tina's hearing, Killian thanked Emma, and as they were walking by the buffet table offered to buy her a drink. She rolled her eyes at his remark. "Sure, but I can get it. Want something?"

He sent her a little smile and shrugged nonchalantly. "What...ever, uh...you're having is fine. I'll just be over…" he waved in the direction of several chairs, and when she nodded he moved away and sat down.

Killian watched her move around the table with ease, curious as to what she was making to drink, when out of the corner of his eye he saw someone sit down next to him. His breathing stopped until he heard, David's low laugh, "Emma making you one of her creations?"

He sent his companion a quick grin and shrugged, "I'm not sure. Should I be worried?"

"Oh, just wait," David intoned. "Our Emma has a sweet tooth."

"Watch it, David," Emma laughed, "I heard that." She handed Killian a cup piled high with whipped cream that was covered with brown sprinkles. "Drink up. I've got to go hear more about the sunsets in Key West." With a little wave, she faded into the crowd.

Killian looked at the whipped topping melting in his cup and lifted it to see if a whiff of the brown specks would give him some indication of what he was drinking. "Cinnamon?" For some reason that seemed familiar but he didn't know why. Many people drank hot chocolate, but he hadn't heard of many drinking it with whipped cream and cinnamon, except...and then it came to him. "Buttercup," he whispered.

"Buttercup?" David repeated, "No, it's cinnamon."

Killian shook his head to clear his thoughts because what was rolling around inside his head made very little sense. He had just swallowed his second drink of the sugary concoction when he realized what David had said, and asked curiously, "Emma always makes the chocolate with whipping cream and cinnamon?"

David laughed, "Always. Why?"

"No, no reason." He couldn't get beyond the fact that he had already been wishing that Emma and Buttercup were the same person, as each stimulated him in different ways and now...now if every time he was involved in a conversation with Buttercup, he saw Emma in his mind...how should he handle it? Needing to move to a safer topic, Killian asked David about his break.

"Oh, I took Mary Margaret to Key West." He went on to sing the praises of the little town that sat on the very tip of the Florida Keys. "Have you had a chance to drive down since you've been here?"

Killian barely had time to say no before David continued with the conversation, claiming the Key West sunsets were not to be beat and that if the opportunity arose, it was a place he recommended.

It wasn't long before Killian noticed people starting to leave, and as soon as he was able he too made his excuses. All the way home, he kept replaying conversations that he'd had with Buttercup over the past two months and combining those with what he knew about Emma. Was it even possible that they were one and the same? Or was it something that he just desired? And if his magical match wasn't ready to let him knock down all those walls, then what could he do without losing her...or possibly both of them? After all, he was only Clark Kent.

Later that night a notification arrived that he had a new message from Buttercup. Killian opened the app and read,

_**Dear Clark,** _

_**This may sound odd, but just out of curiosity, Clark Kent has several nervous habits that Superman doesn't share. Do you have any nervous habits you're willing to share with your magical match?** _

_**Yours,** _

_**Buttercup** _

**~~~CS~~~**

Emma wasn't sure what possessed her to ask the question, but once she hit send, she couldn't wait for the answer. When Clark didn't respond right away, she couldn't stop her mind from drifting back to the party and Killian's nervous habits. Besides turning really red, he was prone to rub his hand on his neck. Sometimes along the back and at other times along the front, and his speech patterns changed. They became more hesitant, even slightly dysfluent.

The dysfluency itself was interesting to Emma as it seemed to change depending on the environment. She had watched him arrive and he appeared fine, however once Neal and Tina had surrounded him, making him uncomfortable, he had really stuttered and then the stuttering had lessened as they moved away. But when she had seen him at the beach, once the initial awkwardness was over, his speaking pattern was different. Then his speech had been fluent...smoother, even if his sentences were not as long and eloquent as she had expected...or as long and eloquent as Clark's were, which was a curious comparison to make. But the cadence of his speech and the way his tongue wrapped around those British vowels did something to her that she hadn't expected. In fact, there were times when she found herself hearing Killian's voice in her head as she read some of the messages from Clark. How messed up was that? There would come a time when a decision would have to be made, she could feel it. The question was...how much time did she have?

Knowing she had to teach the next day, Emma tried to go to sleep early but her mind wouldn't stop enough to allow for a deep sleep. It took hours of tossing and turning before she finally fell into such a shallow sleep that she was aware of every little creak in the house and every move made by Ginger, thanks to the bell on her collar. Her dreams had Killian and Clark morphing into the same person, each saying words she would expect from the other. She reached a point where she wasn't sure which man she was running to...or running from.

When the alarm went off, she wanted nothing more than to bury her head under the blankets, but with an early class spurring her on, she forced her feet to move. Knowing she was going to need an extra shot of caffeine, Emma quickly showered, dressed and was out the door and in line at Starbucks before even realizing she hadn't even touched her phone. When she saw the notification, signaling a message from Clark, a little jolt traveled through her system, but wanting to savor the feeling she dealt with the non-important stuff first. Her thumb hovered over the app when she heard the barista call, "Swan," and the moment was lost.

A congested US-1 slowed her down and so it wasn't until several hours later that Emma dropped down into her office chair and opened the app to see what awaited her.

_**Dear Buttercup,** _

_**Just like Clark Kent, I find myself unsure at times and when that occurs, besides turning red, I tend to tug on my right ear. I've been trying to stop, but perhaps it's a Superman transformation I've yet to conquer.** _

_**Yours,** _

_**Clark** _

"He tugs on his ear," Emma murmured. "Why does that sound so familiar?" Her stomach growled, reminding her she hadn't eaten anything earlier, but grabbing something from the vending machines didn't sound good, so...

 **E** : Have time to meet me at the student center?

Thankfully she didn't have to wait long for an answer,

 **MM** : Sounds good. Usual spot in 20?

 **E** : Perfect. See you then.

There were several "busy" activities that she could have started, but Emma found that she didn't have the drive to begin any of them. Leaving her office behind, she escaped the confines of the building and started the walk across campus. The weather was still perfect, and with the sun shining down and the fragrant flowers around, Emma found herself relaxing and reflecting over the past few months. Much had changed since last November when she had told Mary Margaret that she was not interested in dating.

**November 2017**

**Thanksgiving**

_Emma dried the last glass, set it in the cabinet and shut the door. "Done," she said with a smile. She hung up the towel she had been using and followed Mary Margaret into the family room._

_They settled on the sofa in front of the fireplace, both lost in their own thoughts for a few moments. "Thanks for helping clean the kitchen," her friend told her quietly. "When Robert is ready to go home, he means right then."_

_Emma laughed at the memory of the argument between the men and how in the end David had given in and driven them home. "That was sweet of David to drive them home."_

_"An only child," Mary Margaret laughed and the changed the subject. "Ready to let me in on why you arrived alone?"_

_Emma's head dropped onto the back of the sofa. "I was wondering when you would ask, but," she lifted her head, "it's not a big deal, really. When Mary Margaret's only response was a lift of her brow, Emma laughed and shook her head. "There was just something missing between us and..." She bit her lip, unsure how much more to say._

_"Oh Emma," the brunette sighed, "he wanted more, didn't he?"_

_Emma nodded her head slowly. "I'm not sure why I have such a hard time picking men," she finished disgustedly, and gave her friend a tiny smile. "Know any men as special as your husband?"_

_She watched several expressions cross her friend's face and thought to herself, 'I'm going to wish I wouldn't have said anything,' before her friend even opened her mouth. "Well, it's interesting that you ask," Mary Margaret started, "it just so happens..."_

_"Stop." Emma held up her hand. "I was just kidding. You know I don't do 'fix-ups.'"_

_"But Emma, what if he's your true love?"_

_"Ha!" burst out before she could stop it. "Let's change the subject, shall we?"_

**March 2018**

_And if I had taken her up on the offer to introduce me to someone, would I have a third man in my life? Or would I have none?_  "Feast or famine," she mumbled as she entered the noisy environment of the student center and sat down at their usual table.

While she waited, Emma's thoughts once again drifted back over conversations that she'd had with Clark and how easy it was to share most things with him. Most things that is...except her name, what she did for a living and...where she lived.

"What's wrong?" Mary Margaret asked before she had even settled in a chair.

Emma frowned at her. "How do you know anything is wrong?"

"Because you're chewing on your bottom lip. Now spill."

Emma spent the next hour trying to explain the confusion she was feeling inside and how her feelings for Clark and Killian were morphing together. She found it freeing, but even talking about it still didn't give her clarification as to what she should do. "You've been quiet," she commented as she ran out of things to say.

"Have you thought about trying to meet Clark?" Mary Margaret asked her quietly.

"Yes," Emma nodded, "but...but I like what we have, even if it's not completely open. If we meet I might find out-"

"-that you might be wrong about him," Mary Margaret interrupted. Emma sighed, but didn't say anything, only nodded her head. "Emma," her friend reached out with a reassuring touch on her hand, "don't give up. Love is worth it."

All the way back to the Flipse Building, Emma thought about what Mary Margaret had said and wondered if she was brave enough to take a chance. Was her true love at the bottom of the hill, just like Buttercup's Westley? It was a question that certainly deserved a lot of thought but since she had a class of freshmen to lecture for the next ninety minutes, she would have to set it aside to ponder later.

As she stood in front of her class, lecturing about habits, Emma's mind kept wandering to her situation, but using every ounce of skill she had learned over the past few years, she made it through her Power Point without having to repeat herself too many times. She had just started a video to accompany her lecture when she looked up, meeting the blue eyes of Killian Jones.

The first thing she noticed was that he didn't have his glasses on and his gaze was so intense that she had to hold onto the table to keep from falling. He looked different, but beyond the absence of his eyewear, she couldn't put her finger on why she thought that.  _Almost like when Clark Kent becomes Superman_ flitted through her mind before she pushed it aside as a preposterous idea.

Emma couldn't look away, her gaze mesmerized by his and then...he smiled. A smile so endearing that if she hadn't been holding onto the table, her legs would have given out. Without conscious thought, Emma found herself smiling back, and then it happened, and as if in slow motion the room stood still.

Killian's face turned red and he reached up and...tugged on his ear.

Emma blinked rapidly several times, thinking surely, she didn't just see that. But he did it again.

He reached up, and once again tugged on his ear.

Emma's mouth dropped open, and just as she started to walk over to him, the video came to its conclusion and with a little wave Killian disappeared. She didn't know where the words came from, but somehow she closed out the class and made it back to her office repeating, "I am so screwed," over and over again.

Almost in a trance, Emma packed up and drove home, arriving to discover that Ginger had been busy, but she hadn't destroyed anything important. The decision time that she had been fretting about for a while had arrived. The question of what to do ran around inside her head, almost filling up too much space to allow her to function. She had just about decided to put it off for another day when her phone buzzed with a new notification from Clark. With much curiosity and a little trepidation, Emma opened the app.

**Tell me dear Buttercup, are buttercups your favorite posies?**

**Yours,**

**Clark**

**~~~CS~~~**

Killian leaned against the open patio doors, listening to the waves roll in several floors below. Usually the rhythmic pulse served to soothe him, but tonight his thoughts were in too much disarray and he'd resorted to a generous dollop of rum. As the amber drink burned a path from his mouth to his stomach, he set the glass aside and leaned on the railing staring out at the bay, hoping for some clarity.

With each ebb and flow of the water, the shore changed, reminding him of his own metamorphosis over the last few months. It hadn't been something that he had noticed as it was taking place, for then, he had been attempting to make some sense of what he was feeling. His emotions were wide and varied and they included those for his Buttercup, as well as many for Emma Swan and suddenly, the two women had merged into one...at least in his mind. But after speaking with Liam, there had been an epiphany, of sorts, and he had realized that the man he looked at in the mirror every morning had indeed changed.

_He had arrived home from the party and, with his thoughts mired in confusion, he had needed someone to help him sort through them and reached out to his family. Piper had answered the phone and after listening to her stories about school, she had passed him on to Elsa. It hadn't taken long before Elsa had asked if she could help, and he thought about asking her for her opinion, but then Liam's voice came over the phone and he hadn't been able to stop the flow of words._

_It had felt good to be able to articulate what was in his mind and what was in his heart. And once the words were said, then he had been forced to examine the meaning behind them. Liam had asked a few questions, but as the questions became fewer and his answers shorter, Killian had started to wonder what was going through Liam's head. The end of the conversation was really what stood out in his mind._

_"Have you ever fought for a woman, Killian?" Liam had asked him quietly._

_"No." He had never wanted to fight for anyone._

_Liam continued, "A man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets. So, Little Brother, if you want this woman, you need to fight for her_."

_Once he had hung up the phone, he found himself thinking about Clark Kent's transformation to Superman. It all started when he removed his glasses. He stood taller, more confident, his voice was lower pitched...and what he wanted, he went after._

_Killian found himself in the bathroom, staring at the man in the mirror, and just like Superman, he pulled the tortoiseshell glasses from his face._ _Different, yet the same_ _, he thought, wanting to do more. With a tug of the knot, his tie ended up on the floor and the top few buttons of his shirt came undone and his stance changed...looser...cockier. His hair...he mussed, letting it fall over his forehead. And the new Killian Jones stared back at him. This man, not the same man that looked back at him each day, but a man on a mission. A man willing to fight for the woman he wanted._

And that man made his first appearance at the University earlier today. That man had breezed through his classes and, needing to see Emma, had stopped by the room where she was lecturing. Exchanging looks with her had been intense, and he'd needed to hold on to the door facing to keep from pushing his newfound confidence farther...and then...she smiled. His heart raced, but the video's ending had sent him running home.

Once home, after a run on the beach, he set out to see how close he could get to his Buttercup and sent her a message. But now, hours later and she hadn't responded. Had he gotten too close? And if so, was she running?

Unsure what his next step should be, Killian readied for bed and, keeping his phone close, lay down, folded his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. His thoughts fell back on the encounter with Emma and how he felt when she smiled at him, his heart had...

His phone sounding with the theme music to Princess Bride interrupted his thoughts before they could delve any further into his feelings. Killian reached for the phone, quickly opening the app. Buttercup's message was short and either she was being a bit cheeky...or she was trying to put some distance between them. "We'll see about that," he muttered as he reread her message.

_**Dear Clark,** _

_**Buttercups are not my favorite posey.** _

_**Yours,** _

_**Buttercup** _

Killian's next message was short...but a little more personal.

_**Dear Buttercup,** _

_**How about Blue Bonnets? Are they your favorites? Blue like your Westley's eyes.** _

_**Yours,** _

_**Clark** _

Even though it was getting late, he didn't have to wait long for her answer.

_**Dear Clark,** _

_**I do like blue, but Blue Bonnets aren't my favorite.** _

_**Yours,** _

_**Buttercup** _

Killian's smile was decidedly wicked as he answered her.

_**You like blue? Blue like the sky or blue like the sea?** _

He couldn't put the phone down, he was so anxious to hear what she had to say.

_**Why, blue like the sea, of course. Oh, a bonus for you. My favorite flowers are Tiger Lilies.** _

Killian had his answer and assumed she was turning in for the night. He shut the phone off and as fatigue pulled him down into sleep, he continued to formulate his plan as to how far he could push her before her walls came tumbling down and he was able to win Buttercup's heart.

Over the course of the next few weeks, Killian put his plan into action. His messages to his Magical Match included questions that became increasingly more personal, pushing her down that hill a little at a time. Initially, she met his new questioning technique with hesitation and challenged his with questions of her own. But then, it was as if a door had opened and she was walking through as she met each of his questions with ones of her own.

By telling her he had grown up in London, he learned she was born in Boston.

By telling her his parents had been killed when he was a teenager, he had learned she had been raised in the foster system. And that news sent his heart racing, for Emma Swan had also been raised in the foster system.

By telling her his magical match gift had been bestowed on him by his brother, his wife and their daughter, he had learned she had received it from married friends, who were colleagues. Could those have been David and Mary Margaret?

Mid-April was upon them and Killian wanted...no...needed to meet Buttercup, but he had one more question for her. It was quick.

_**Dear Buttercup** _

_**If you could take a trip to see the sunset, where would the trip lead you?** _

_**Yours,** _

_**Clark** _

Surprisingly, he didn't have to wait long as her response popped up right away.

_**Dear Clark,** _

_**I hear the sunsets in Key West, Florida are like no other.** _

_**Yours,** _

_**Buttercup** _

When Killian read her answer, he couldn't believe the amount of relief he was feeling and he was being hit with it from several directions. Creating the perfect letter took some time but once it was sent, he was confident he had made the right decision.

The following week, he realized he needed a little advice and stopped by David's office. David's secretary smiled. "Doctor Jones, how can I help you?"

"Good morning, Mrs. Lucas." He sent her what he hoped was an endearing smile. "Is David in?"

Once inside David's inner sanctum, Killian got right to the point, "David, I thought I'd check out those sunsets in Key West next weekend. Would you happen to have a hotel recommendation? And would you mind taking me to the airport?

**~~~CS~~~**

As soon as Killian had left the office, David couldn't stop smiling. He picked up his phone to share the news. "Mrs. Lucas," he said to secretary, "please tell Ruby thanks again for help with that matter."

"I'll do that, Doctor Nolan," she answered. "Is there anything else before I leave for the day?"

"Nothing, thanks." As soon as she was gone, David snuck outside to where a copse would hide him, should anyone come around. He needed to call Liam and fill him in on the news. As he waited for the phone to ring, he saw Killian leaving the building, and stepped back a little more into the shadows.

"David, good to hear from you," Liam's voice came over the line. "How are things?"

**~~~CS~~~**

_**Dear Buttercup,** _

_**Are you ready to meet me at the bottom of the hill? If so, I'll be waiting at the Southernmost Point in Key West on April 21 at 7:00p.m. If all goes well, the sunset will signify a new beginning. I'll leave my cape at home and be holding four Tiger Lilies, one for every month we've been talking.** _

_**~Clark** _

Emma read through the message one more time and the excitement that she had felt the first time was just as real...the tenth...twentieth, but who's counting time. It had taken her a lot of runs on the beach and talks with her friend, but Emma had made the decision to continue down the hill. She hadn't rolled down, like they had in the movie, but taken sure and steady steps, allowing him to get closer to her than anyone had in...forever. And after his last message, she had decided to drive to Key West...and meet him.

Ginger mewed and followed her to the door, and seeing her little forlorn, furry face almost stopped her...but, "You'll be in good hands, my friend." She picked up the kitten and rubbed her face against the soft fur. "Mary Margaret is going to take care of you. You like her, right?"

The kitten didn't look convinced but followed her mistress from room to room as Emma made sure she had everything and then called her friend.

"Hello?"

"I'm getting ready to leave. You won't forget to take care of Ginger, right?"

"Go, Emma," Mary Margaret assured her, "Ginger and I will be fine. Good luck."

"Thanks...for everything." While Emma didn't know for sure, she had a feeling she was thanking her friend for a lot more than just watching her pet.

On a good day, the drive along the scenic US-1 was almost four hours from her home in Coconut Grove, but add in a wreck and a little road construction and she didn't pull into the hotel until five hours later. Once she checked into her room, she had too much nervous energy to just sit around and decided to take the opportunity to visit the Hemingway House. Once there she was free to wander about the eccentric writer's home, admiring not only the residence, but the many cats that called the house their home.

After leaving the Hemingway House, Emma still had a few hours to waste and spent time walking in and out of the shops on Duval Street. Her stomach was so tied up in knots that she couldn't even think about food and she was too nervous to people watch, and so an hour early, she started in the direction of the concrete buoy that proudly proclaimed it to be the Southernmost Point in Key West, Florida.

When she arrived within eyesight of the buoy, Emma stopped and leaned against a store, shielding herself from others, but allowing her to see the comings and goings of the tourists. Her eyes were constantly moving over the crowd, searching for the man that she hoped was both her magical match, i.e., Clark Kent, as well as her Superman. Taking a chance on even the possibility of love was not something that Emma Swan had ever done until she had become his Buttercup. Now...she was here...and...she was ready.

She saw him coming from the opposite side of the street, his walk much more Superman these days than Clark Kent.  _He looked good as Superman,_ she thought. Contacts instead of glasses, jeans instead of dress pants, a vest and a shirt unbuttoned a few buttons instead of a tie, all topped by black leather instead of a tweed jacket. And not a fedora in sight, she noticed as he turned to look in a store window. She assumed he was window shopping until he straightened his jacket and ran his hand though his hair, leaving it artfully mussed. He turned back toward the corner and his lopsided grin caused her heart to do a little flip. That they had come so far was a miracle, making her think they were technically a miracle match instead of a magical one.

Just before he reached the corner, his steps hesitated and he stopped, his confidence flagging. His shoulders sagged, and his body relaxed and just like that, Clark was back. He dropped his head studying the bright orange flowers he was holding, four beautiful Tiger Lilies as he had promised and then...with a swipe of his finger across one delicate petal, his shoulders drew back and his head lifted. Superman had once again returned and Emma's heart melted a little more.

He looked toward the concrete buoy and Emma watched him take a breath and his lopsided smile once again returned. She saw him scan the crowds, looking for her, she knew, before settling off to one side. His Adam's apple bobbed and seeing that even when he was Superman he was nervous, Emma stepped away from the wall and started her walk to where he was waiting.

**~~~CS~~~**

Killian saw her coming and she was so beautiful all the words that he had planned to say disappeared from his brain. His eyes trailed up her slim legs encased in tight jeans, to her soft sweater covered by the ever-present leather jacket. Her hair blowing around her face and the sun shining on her gave her a glow, and those combined with her smile woke his heart and made it sing.

She stopped in front of him, giving him a smile that he hadn't been aware he was longing for. "I hoped it was you." Her voice was husky and a little breathless and the way she was biting her lip was endearing to see.

"Really?" He felt his smile grow, "I hoped it was you, too." He took a half step closer. "When did you suspect?"

Emma tilted her face up to the sun, as if working to bring back a memory that was hiding. "Clark and Killian had been merging in my head for several weeks, but then when you were standing in the doorway of my class-"

"And tugged on my ear?" he finished.

She nodded. "Yes. And then you disappeared." Her voice faded as she studied him intently.

His face felt stiff and too warm, as if he had been smiling too much or was embarrassed...or both. "I'm sorry," he told her quietly. "I wanted to stay but it felt like it was..." and then he stopped because he wasn't sure how to finish the sentence.

Emma took another step closer. "Too much?" she asked hesitantly.

This time it was his turn to nod. "Something like that."

"How long do you plan to stay?" Emma's shining green eyes continued to stare into his as if she were cataloging his features and digging into the deepest recesses of his mind.

She had asked him a question, but he had been so lost in her green-eyed gaze that it took him a while to process what she had said. "In Key West...or in Florida?

Emma rolled her eyes and lightly giggled, relieving some of the nervous tension he still was holding. "Florida, silly."

"Well," Killian handed her one of the bright Tiger Lilies, "that depends on a few things." He handed her another, each word carefully chosen.

"Thank you," she whispered softly, her breath blowing across the petals causing them to undulate slightly. His eyes rested on her lips before he forcibly brought them back to hers. She pulled the flowers down to clasp them tightly against her chest as she stared up at him, almost as if something held her captivated. Her pink tongue peeked out to slowly circle her lips and for the first time, Killian felt that there was a very real chance he would get to taste that mouth. Something he had longed to do but never really thought possible. "What things?"

Her words broke through his hazy thoughts. "A job," he handed her the third flower, "for one. After all, my position is only until the end of the semester."

Emma frowned up and him and took a step back. "Wait. I thought you were applying for Cora Mills' position."

Killian felt his brow raise in question, thinking that the fact that she was aware he had been offered the opportunity to apply for the position was an interesting piece of information. "I've been told about the position but haven't decided if I should apply or not." He took a step forward closing the distance that she had just added.

"What...what will help you determine whether or not to apply?" she asked him breathlessly.

A tiny smile played along her lips, their twitching pulling his eyes to them time and again. "I think you know." He handed her the last flower, his eyes open for her to read whatever was in them that she wanted to see.

**~~~CS~~~**

His blue eyes had been hypnotizing her since she had stopped in front of him and the more she stared, the more rubbery her legs became. Hearing him talk and listening to the melodic tone to his voice, the more he pulled her in...bringing her closer to him...making her want to step into him, letting him wrap her in his arms. But patience and allowing things to develop between them naturally had worked so far, which was why she was working so hard to refrain from staring at his lips.

Hearing him remind her of the temporariness of his position and then telling her he hadn't applied for the other one sent a shock of fear zipping down Emma's spine. That wasn't like her, yet as he uttered the words, "I think you know," she had to look down to make sure that her legs weren't slowly melting into the very ground beneath her feet. Surely, he couldn't mean her, could he?

But then she looked...really looked in his eyes and what she saw was so raw...so heart wrenchingly beautiful, she couldn't keep from stepping closer. The toes of her boots touched his and her hands rested against the soft leather of his jacket. "Killian?" There was so much she wanted to say but how to verbalize exactly what she was feeling was a problem, because as she had said earlier to him...it just felt so big.

He took another step and cupped her elbows, pulling her closer, so close that she could feel his breath against her face. "Yes, love?"

Emma wasn't sure if the word was an endearment or just something that he used when speaking to others, but it sent awareness along her skin. "Where's home?"

He leaned his head closer and whispered, "I have a flat in Cambridge, which is the University I am on sabbatical from, and my family lives outside of London, why?"

She shook her head, turning questioning eyes to his. "You would be willing to give up your...family for me?"

"Aye." His breath wafted across her mouth, making her want to lean forward...just an inch closer, to finally seal their lips. "Buttercup," he tugged her into his body, locking his arms around her, "can I be your Westley? Can I be your happy ending?"

The words were barely out of his mouth before Emma took the leap and locked her mouth to his. He tasted like heaven and his arms...those felt like home. Their lips parted briefly, just long enough for her to mutter, "Welcome home, Killian."

The setting sun touched the ocean, painting the world around them with a golden glow. Killian swung Emma around dipping her in his arms. "Is this the Happy Ending you envisioned for Buttercup, Swan?"

She smiled, "It's not a happy ending, Killian. It's a Happy Beginning." He swung her back into his arms and captured her lips once again as the sun sank into the ocean and the night closed around them.

_~fin_

**_Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed the story. check out my tumblr page to see the gifs that I made to bring some of the scenes to life._ **

_You can find my page_ **_[here.](post/172955516610/this-story-was-written-for-the-captain-swan-spring)  _ **


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